Weasleys in Love
by Ely-Baby
Summary: Seven one-shots. Seven canon love stories. With the background of an upcoming wedding. R
1. Arthur & Molly

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

A/N: These will be seven one-shots of the seven canon love-stories of the Weasley family. You'll find Arthur and Molly, Bill and Fleur, Percy and Penelope, Fred and Angelina, George and the Muggle girl at the paper shop (hey! Don't look at me like that, that's the only canon love that George has!), Ron and Hermione (forget Won-Won and Lav-Lav…) and Harry and Ginny (yeah, Neville, Michael, Dean who?). I'm terribly sorry but I think that Charlie doesn't have much social life love life in Romania; so he isn't included in these stories. Since these are all one-shots, you can also chose the pairing that you like most and read only that story. The background is that of Bill and Fleur's upcoming wedding, and there's fluffiness galore, so be aware! Anyway, I hope you'll like them.

To Danii: Thanks a lot for editing this first one-shot. I really appreciated your work and your comments.

**Arthur & Molly**

Molly turned the pages of the book that lay in her lap lazily, murmuring, snorting, and laughing every now and then as her eyes scanned every word. She pulled the covers up to her chest a little more because, even if it was June, thanks to Voldemort and his love for cold rain and cloudy days, the temperatures were well below the seasonal average.

She heard a loud bang and someone screaming in English, and then someone else screaming in French joined the first in one of the rooms downstairs. But she didn't even raise her eyes from the book. She tried to close the image of Fleur out of her mind, who was certainly having another of her little nervous fights with Hermione's bushy hair, and Hermione, who was certainly trying to remain calm, for hexing the bride the day before a wedding was definitely not an option.

A small smile formed on her mouth and a sigh escaped her lips as she heard some steps on the stairs; she hoped that the steps would pass by her door, but they didn't. She also hoped that he wouldn't knock, and he didn't.

The door opened slowly and Arthur appeared at the door. He glanced at Molly, checking if she was still awake, and smiled when his eyes met hers.

"Fleur is still making a fuss about Hermione's hair," he said, hanging his hat on a nail in the wall.

"I heard her," answered Molly, smiling. "I really hoped that it was you, Arthur. I couldn't have taken seeing her again today."

Arthur smiled back, loosening his tie. "I thought you said that she was just the perfect girl for Bill," he said.

"Did I?" asked Molly vaguely. "Was that after the incident with Greyback?"

Arthur nodded.

"Well, she's the perfect girl for Bill, but that doesn't mean she isn't still a very silly person sometimes," stated Molly, closing the book she held.

"Sometimes?" asked Arthur, amused.

Molly sighed. "Always."

Arthur grinned.

"So how was work, Arthur?" asked Molly, re-opening her book and glancing down at it again.

"Not very good," he answered vaguely. "We lost a man today."

Molly's eyes darted towards him. He was unbuttoning his shirt and in the meantime, looking for his pyjamas around the bedroom. He seemed calm, as if he had just spoken about the weather.

"Arthur, that's terrible," she whispered.

"I know," he replied softly.

"Was it someone I knew?"

Arthur shook his head while he changed from his trousers into his pyjamas. "I'll be right back," he said, entering the bathroom.

Molly nodded, mostly to herself, since Arthur had already disappeared behind the door. She sighed and closed the book another time, staring in front of her.

Someone was dead at the Ministry, and Arthur was acting as though nothing had happened. She knew that he was tired of what he was doing, and disheartened in the face of the Ministry's actions, but he didn't want to worry her, especially not the day before their son's wedding.

The door of the bathroom opened again and Arthur walked into the bedroom, snapping Molly out of her thoughts. "I think I should repair that pipe, it's still leaking water," he murmured, changing the subject.

Arthur pushed away the covers from his part of the bed and sat on the mattress. He slid his feet out of his slippers and placed them tidily next to the bedside table.

He turned towards the end of the bed and raised the covers to let his feet slip under them, his cold feet brushing slightly against Molly's warm ones. He lay down, covered himself to his chest and, closing his eyes, he took a deep breath.

He sensed Molly turning towards her own bedside table and putting down the book she was reading. Then, through his lowered eyelid, Arthur was vaguely aware that she had turned off the light in the bedroom.

Molly's warm feet touched his; she brushed her silky ones against his. "I'll warm you," she offered sweetly, and he was grateful to her since he knew how she hated the cold.

Molly's hand sneaked up his chest and came to rest near his neck, while Arthur felt her head, populated with hard rollers, leaning painfully against his right arm.

"Molly, what do you-?" Arthur stretched out an arm and touched her hair, fitting his fingers into her rollers.

"Arthur, no!" she said frantically, moving away. "It took me ages to fix them."

"Oh, sorry, Mollywobbles. I don't notice them when I look at you," he answered, smiling a little.

Molly sighed. She leant again towards her husband's arm, but this time he moved a little forward, making her, and himself, more comfortable. Arthur brought down his hand and took Molly's in his. He brought her soft and plump fingers to his mouth and kissed her tenderly.

As an answer, Molly wriggled closer to him and hugged him with her other arm.

"What were you reading?" he asked her softly.

Molly shrugged. "Just a book about being a good mother-in-law that I found in the attic," she said vaguely.

"In the attic?"

"Yes, it's quite old, but mothers-in-law don't change much, do they? We just have to be nice towards the wife of our son, without being too accommodating," she said seriously.

"Are you quoting that book, Molly?" asked Arthur, amused.

"Just a bit," she confessed. "Oh, Arthur, I'm so scared for tomorrow," she added, burying her face in the covers.

Arthur patted her gently on her back. "Come now, Molly, what are you afraid of? You will be the best mother-in-law to have walked this earth. Fleur is lucky to have you."

"I'm not afraid of that," she muttered. "I'm afraid of losing Bill."

"Molly, darling, you won't lose Bill."

"He'll go to live in France," replied Molly, her voice wobbling.

"It would be safer there than here," said Arthur seriously. "And even if does he go, we always have other six children. It's not exactly like we'll miss just one…"

"Arthur!" exclaimed Molly indignantly.

Arthur hugged her tighter. "I was just joking, Mollywobbles," he whispered into her ear. "Of _course_ we would miss Bill."

Molly sighed. "I'm not against him getting married, Arthur. I was just wondering if they couldn't have waited a little bit."

"Bill is older than I was when we got married, and even Fleur is older than you were," pointed out Arthur.

"Fleur is younger than Percy, and Percy isn't getting married," answered Molly.

"Molly, Bill and Fleur are also both younger than Remus, and it doesn't look like Remus is going to marry Nymphadora anytime soon," answered Arthur, smiling.

"Well, Remus is too old and Bill and Fleur are too young. What was the problem with waiting another couple of years?" replied Molly grumpily.

"You won't talk like this when they bring you your first grandchild," said Arthur amused. Molly didn't answer, and for a moment he thought that she was too upset to even put a sentence together. He regretted having talked about grandchildren.

Then he heard her sigh. "I'm afraid you're right," she said. "Their children will be beautiful and I won't be able to not love them."

"How many people are going to be here tomorrow?" asked Arthur, and from his voice, Molly understood that he was already slipping into Orpheus' arms.

"A lot, more than this house has ever seen, and that says a lot in itself," said Molly. "Fleur's parents will arrive tomorrow morning with all her other relatives. If they are all like her, I think that I'll need to keep some headache potion at the ready."

"Oh, Molly!" exclaimed Arthur, opening his eyes at once in the dark. "They can't be that bad, can they?"

"Fleur is only a quarter part Veela. Her mother is half Veela, she'll be the worst," said Molly knowingly.

"Yes." He had read somewhere: 'Always agree with your wife, especially when she's upset.' He hoped he hadn't read it in one of Lockhart's books that were spread across the Burrow.

"Arthur?" asked Molly, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"Yes, dear?"

"Do you think I'm still as pretty as I was the day we met?" she asked, her voice trembling a bit for the shame that at her age, she was still worried about her appearance.

Arthur didn't answer immediately. He took a moment to find the right answer to give her. It was _that_ that troubled her? No, of course it wasn't. She just needed to feel loved, she just needed him to stay with her. She was a woman with seven children and one daughter-in-law-to-be.

"No," he answered calmly. He couldn't lie to her.

Molly pushed him away instinctively. "Oh," she murmured. "Oh, well, I knew. After all, I'm going on sixty and-"

"No, Molly. You are even prettier than the first time we met. You are beautiful, and ageing with you is the best thing that could have happened to me," he answered sweetly.

"Oh, Arthur," she murmured as she lay next to him. He couldn't see her in the darkness, but from the sudden heat that was coming out of her, he was sure she was blushing.

"And you are the most handsome man I've ever met."

"More handsome than Gilderoy Lockhart?" he asked, amused.

Molly took a while before she answered him. "Yes," she stated simply.

Arthur laughed softly and bent over her, kissing her temple. "I love you, Molly."

"I love you too, Arthur," she answered. "And I swear you're really more handsome than Lockhart."


	2. Bill & Fleur

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter&Co.

A/N: Okay, so I'm very happy that you enjoyed the first one-shot, and I seriously hope that you'll like this one as well, it's about our favourite fille and the almost-not-so-sure-he-really-is werewolf. Well, you understood… Oh, sure! And I also wanted to wish you a Happy Christmas!

To Danii: Thanks a lot for correcting this chapter and for the wonderful comments you left me.

**Bill & Fleur**

Fleur looked at her reflection in the mirror for the tenth time, smiling to herself and nodding every now and then in appreciation. After a few hours spent looking at her wedding gown, she also began to pay herself some compliments in French.

The door of the bedroom that Fleur was sharing with Bill burst open without a knock, and Bill himself entered.

"Bill!" shrieked Fleur, making a poor attempt at covering her gown with her long, skinny arms. "You can't see the bride with 'er dress before the wedding!"

Bill stared for a moment at her, unable to keep his eyes from her beautiful body wrapped in the magnificent long white dress. It was strapless and extremely simple, long and silky. Fleur looked beautiful in it.

"Bill!" she shrieked another time, snapping him out of his rather lusty thoughts about his soon-to-be wife.

"Sure, sorry," he said, turning. "You can change, I won't look."

Fleur arched an eyebrow. "I don't mind if you look at me while I change, we are going to be married tomorrow," she said, flushing slightly as she unbuttoned her dress. "But you shouldn't 'ave entered without knocking. I didn't want you to see the gown."

"I'm sorry," answered Bill, still turned. "I didn't think you were still doing the dressing fitting. You started right after breakfast, I thought you were done by now."

Fleur smiled, put on her nightgown and lay on the bed. "Eet took me ages to do the fitting," she said, sighing. "Ginny wouldn't stay still while she tried the dress. She kept on complaining that eet was too large here, too small there, too long on her legs, too short for her arms. I suppose she was doing that just for annoying me."

Bill took a deep breath. "No, darling, of course she wasn't," he lied. "Didn't you hear her at lunch? She's crazy about you."

"I thought she said that I drove 'er crazy," replied Fleur. "Oh by the way, you can turn. I finished ages ago."

Bill turned and his scarred face brightened with a smile as he looked at her. How could she look beautiful even in a nightgown? Her Veela genes helped, but they couldn't have done all the work.

"Love?" Fleur called him. "You are staring."

"Really?" he asked. "It's your fault. You are beautiful, Fleur."

Fleur flushed. "You too are beautiful."

Bill smiled and walked towards the bed. He sat on it and made his eyes running up her body. "You mean that I was handsome," he corrected her, when his eyes met hers.

She sat up and cupped his cheek with her hand. "Yes, 'andsome," she repeated, trying to imitate his English accent. "Hand-some. And you still are, not were."

Bill kissed her, exploring her mouth with his tongue, while he traced her collarbone with his fingers. When he released her he pretended to taste something in his mouth. "Mmm," he murmured. "Yes, indeed your English tongue is getting better."

Fleur smiled maliciously. "You know that what you 'ave just done ees called French kiss?"

"I've heard about that," he replied. "That's why I chose a French girl," he said, kissing her on her nose.

"Just because of that?" she asked, pretending to pout.

"No, because you are beautiful," he said, kissing her another time on the forehead. "Intelligent." He kissed her eyelid. "Sweet." He kissed her chin.

She brushed his face with her fingers, tracing the scars left by Greyback. Bill took her hand in his, stopping her. "Don't," he said softly. "It makes me remember that I'm not the man you met the first time."

Fleur looked at him with her large blue eyes, a serious expression on her face. "You are the man that I met the first time," she said.

He looked into her eyes. "Yes, in your eyes, I'm still the same. The way you look at me, the way you make me feel, it's like nothing ever happened. But I know I'm different. I've changed."

"Everybody changes," stated Fleur. "Do you think that I've always been so beautiful? I 'aven't. When I was just a little witch, I wore glasses and my 'air was as frizzy as 'ermione Granger's."

Bill raised his eyebrows. "You are lying," he exclaimed, unable to picture Fleur with frizzy hair and glasses.

Fleur smiled. "Yes, I'm lying," she confessed. "But I'm not lying when I say that you are 'andsome."

"Thanks," he said, lying down on the bed. Fleur lay back down next to him.

"And we 'ave bigger problems to worry about," she said crossly. "Your sister 'ates me."

Bill laughed nervously. "Who? Ginny? But, Fleur, she adores you."

"And does she usually 'ex all the people that she adores?"

"Did she hex you?" asked Bill.

"She used a Silencing Charm on me, before running away and screaming that she would never wear that 'orrible dress I prepared for 'er," explained Fleur.

"I'll talk to her," he said, sitting up.

"No," she said softly, pulling him back near her. "I'll talk to her. And 'ermione Granger's 'air is terrible," she added without any sign of connection between the two topics.

"I heard her scream," said Bill.

"The 'air brush caught in 'er 'air and I had a 'ard time to take eet out," she said, sighing.

"That's why it took you ages for the dress fitting."

"Exactly."

"Poor girl," said Bill, tipping her nose. "How can you be so unlucky?"

Fleur shrugged on the bed. She took his hand and stared at his palm, then she turned it upside down. "I love your 'ands," she whispered, as if it was something that should be said with respect. "I love 'ow big and warm they are."

Bill raised his right arm and looked at his hand as well. He turned it upside down and eventually he smiled. "Yes, they are beautiful," he said sarcastically.

Fleur stretched up her arm as well, and her hand touched Bill's. They stood there, palm to palm, soft flawless skin against scarred. Fleur's pale skin reflected the light in an almost unnatural way. Bill thought it must have been because of her Veela genes.

"I feel safe when I'm with you," she whispered.

"You can throw handfuls of fire if you are angry. Do you need me to feel safe?" he asked, smiling.

Fleur nodded towards their hands, which were still up in the air. She enlaced her fingers to his and tightened her grip, guiding down their hands back towards them. "Touch my 'and," she said to him.

Bill brushed her tensed hand with his left one.

"Can you feel all my tensed nerves?" she asked softly.

Bill nodded.

"Can you feel my grip around your fingers?"

He nodded again.

"Eet's strong, isn't eet?"

"Yes."

She showed him her other hand and closed her fist. "Touch eet," she said.

Bill touched her other hand, she seemed so soft and delicate.

"Does eet seem strong?" she asked.

"No, it seems like the hand of a porcelain doll," he whispered, kissing her knuckles.

"Because your 'and isn't touching mine, although this 'and would be strong, as well," she explained. "Eet's just like me. I'm not strong when I'm away from you. Eet's your touch that makes me feel powerful."

Bill let go of both her hands and cupped her cheeks, kissing her fondly on the lips, as a thank you for making him feel whole again. When she brought her hand to his neck, he drew away from her lips and trailed some soft kisses down her jaw to her collarbone, biting and sucking her skin jokingly.

"And do you know why I need you?" he asked between kisses.

Fleur gasped as his kisses started to become more intimate. She shook her head and placed a hand on his neck, making him stop and bringing his lips back to hers. "Why?" she asked, breathlessly.

Bill smiled and deliberately waited before answering. He wanted to drive her crazy with his kisses.

"Bill," she breathed.

"Because you are beautiful enough for the both of us."


	3. Percy & Penelope

Disclaimer: Absolutely not mine.

A/N: Okay, I would have never imagined to have this chapter back so soon, but my beta-reader is great, so… (Danii, you'll have to pay me for this… ). Well, I seriously love this one-shot, I think that is my favourite one, and I'm not a fan of Percy. Well, you'll tell me what do you think! Cheers, people!

To Danii: Oh, thanks a lot for your wonderful comments. You are great!

**Percy & Penelope**

_Knock. Knock. Knock. _

"Percy Ignatius Weasley, open this door right now, or I'll tear it down!"

Percy rolled his eyes and tried to ignore the annoying girl that had been knocking at his door for almost ten minutes. He had pretended he wasn't home, but when Penelope had started screaming, he'd jumped, causing an inkbottle to fall and, after spilling all over his robes, it had crashed to the floor.

"I know you're in there, Percy!" cried Penelope. "I just want to talk to you."

Percy sighed wearily. He stood up from his desk and went to open the door.

Penelope, who was now leaning against the door, with her arms crossed, fell into Percy's arms when he opened it.

"Hey!" she exclaimed in surprise, as her support disappeared and Percy caught her.

Percy put her on her feet and she turned to look at him with narrowed eyes.

"It took you long enough," she said.

"I was busy," he answered. "What have you come for, Penny?"

She took out an envelope from her pocket and fluttered it under Percy's nose. "You know what I came for."

Percy took the envelope and recognised his mother's writing as soon as he spotted it.

"Can I come in?" asked Penelope, and without waiting for his answer, she crossed the small apartment and sat on the only chair in the room.

Percy rolled his eyes and closed the door. He turned and opened the envelope. Inside, there was an invitation to his brother's wedding, exactly like the one he had received a month ago.

"Did they invite you?" he asked, looking at her. "Why? They don't even know you."

Penelope shrugged. "So? What time are you going to pick me up tomorrow?" she asked.

Percy looked at her intently, trying to see if she was serious. She knew perfectly well that he wasn't talking to his parents. He had written her pages and pages on that subject. But he had never told her in person, since it was after school and he didn't see her. Maybe she didn't believe him, and she thought he was just exaggerating.

"How did you find me?" he asked, walking towards her and leaning on the table, moving away the Ministry papers on which he was working.

"Your address is in the Ministry's register," she answered simply.

"Did you come to the Ministry? You could have come and seen me," he said crossly.

Penelope looked at him and shook her head slightly. "Percy, I work at the Ministry," she said in exasperation.

"Really?" asked Percy surprised. "Since when?"

"Since I left school," she answered patiently.

Percy's eyes wandered around the room. "You didn't tell me."

"Of course I did, but you didn't even listen to me," she said bitterly.

"I've never seen you in all these years," he continued. "Where are you working?"

"At the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, in the Magical Equipment Control section," she answered.

"We are on the same level, and I've never seen you," he said thoughtfully. "Did you see me?"

Penelope sighed. "Percy, I see you every day."

"Penny, why you have never stopped me? We could have had lunch together once or twice," he said, looking at her.

"Once or twice?" she asked, frustrated. "Percy, I've worked there for three years and all you can say is that we could have had lunch together once or twice?"

"I didn't even know you were there," he retorted sourly.

"Because you didn't even pay attention when I told you that I was working on the same level as you, in an office which is only a couple of feet from yours," she said.

"Why didn't you write to me?"

She snorted. "And when should I have written it? After the information I gave you about the cauldrons or after the understanding sentences about your family?"

So she did know that he had had a row with them. What cheek to drop in unexpectedly in his house and ask him what time he was going to pick her up for his brother's wedding!

"Have you at least read half of the letters I sent you?" she asked patiently.

"Penny, I'm very-"

"Busy, I know," she finished for him. "You're too busy even for yourself, so you're definitely too busy for _me_."

Percy didn't answer. What could he say? She was right, after all. He was busy, and proud to be so busy, to be such a good Ministry employee.

"You still haven't answered my question," she pointed out.

"What question?"

"What time are you going to pick me up tomorrow?" she asked, moving a lock of hair out of her eyes.

Percy sighed. "Pick you up? Where are we going?" he asked, clapping his hands mockingly.

Penelope narrowed her eyes. She didn't like it when he mocked her so obviously. She snatched the invitation from his hand and waved it under his nose. "Your brother's wedding."

"I'm not going to my brother's wedding," he said firmly.

"Why not?" she asked. "I want to go."

"You can go," he said. "They have invited you." He nodded towards her invitation.

"I want to go with _you_," she said, looking into his eyes.

Percy looked away, his eyes cold as ice. "I'm not going," he said firmly.

"Don't you think that you're going to regret that you didn't attend your brother's wedding, sometime in the future?" she asked seriously.

"I have plenty of brothers. I don't think I'll regret it if I don't go to one of their weddings," he said, shrugging.

Penelope narrowed her eyes. "Percy! Do you seriously think that your family has invited me because I work on the same level as you and your father, or because I used to be your girlfriend in school?" she asked, frustrated.

Percy bit his bottom lip. "You mean that you are no longer my girlfriend?" he asked in a bare whisper.

She looked at him, her eyes suddenly wide. She didn't know if he was serious or if he was just trying to change subject. "You are joking, aren't you?" she asked slowly.

Percy walked away from the desk and from Penelope. He went towards a small basin with a stove at its side, which he evidently used as a kitchen. "Would you like some tea?" he asked, without turning towards her.

Penelope looked at him intently, his long and curly hair that needed a cut desperately, his slim body and his pale skin. For a moment she had the urge to pull him into a hug, and at the same time to scream towards him how stupid he was. But she didn't do anything. She just stared at his back, wrapped in his robes.

"Penny?" Percy snapped her out of thoughts. "Tea?"

She shook her head slowly. "You aren't really serious when you ask me if we are still together, are you?" she asked hoarsely.

"We never split officially," he pointed out, looking at her gravely.

"It's been three years since we saw each other," she said. "Do you think that having a girlfriend means that one day you'll get married and you won't spend all your life alone?"

Percy didn't answer, he didn't even move.

"It doesn't mean that," she said. "It means that you care for the girl and that you spend time with her."

"I care for you," he said.

"Percy, you didn't even read my letters."

"But I kept on sending them to you," he pointed out.

"Because you needed someone that would listen to you. But you never asked me how I was, or what _I_ was doing," she said, clasping her hands.

Percy bit his bottom lip. "But the fact that I still love you doesn't mean anything?"

"Percy, you think you love me, but you don't," she explained. "I thought you would have asked me out at least once, in these last three years."

"Then, why do you want to go with me tomorrow?" he asked suspiciously.

Penelope lowered her eyes. "Your family is such a nice one. I just want to see them all happy. Your mother would be devastated if you don't go."

"How much did they offer you to convince me to go?" he asked suddenly.

Penelope's eyes clouded. "I am so offended by the fact that you are thinking that they paid me. Your father simply asked me if I could _try_ to persuade you to come."

Percy nodded briskly. "Sorry, Penny, you didn't succeed."

"You are not even taking what I'm saying into account, Percy," she protested.

"I am. I swear I am."

"Then come to the wedding with me," she said seriously.

"Penny, if you have not yet noticed, I'm not talking to my family. And I don't think my parents would endure the slightest grief if I'm not there. My brothers, at least, won't," he said, thinking of the twins.

"Percy, it's your family," she reminded him gently.

Percy shrugged. "What can I say? We don't get along very well, anymore."

"Stop," she said, trying to speak as calmly as her rage permitted. "Just stop being such a git and pretending that you don't give a damn about them."

Percy looked at her, surprised. "Are you angry?" he asked cautiously.

"How can somebody not get angry with you?" she exclaimed.

Percy nodded thoughtfully.

Penelope placed a curl behind her hair. "Are you going to come tomorrow?" she asked again, softly.

"No," he answered.

She nodded and stood up, now too tired to fight with him. "All right," she said, passing him.

He seized her arm before she could turn the handle and, pulling her towards him, he kissed her. A chaste and rather rushed kiss.

Penelope didn't move. She just sighed in resignation when she understood what was happening.

Percy let her go and looked into his eyes.

"Nothing?" he asked hopefully.

She shook her head sadly. "No. I'm sorry, Percy."

He nodded and she turned towards the door. She opened it and placed a foot in the corridor; then, before exiting completely, she turned and kissed Percy, and this time their kiss wasn't so chaste.

When she let him go, she looked into his eyes, a malicious grin on her face. "Now that was something," she said. "And I swear that if you come tomorrow, you'll get more."

Percy smiled sadly. "Good night, Penny," he said, closing the door in the face of his girlfriend.


	4. Fred & Angelina

Disclaimer: Definitely not mine.

A/N: Okay, I'm not so sure about this chapter and the next one, I'm not a fan of the twins, but I know that about the 99,99 percent of the female population on this Earth is in love of Gred and Forge, so that's making me very nervous. Well, I really hope that you'll like it, it's short and sweet, but hopefully not too sugary… Enjoy!

To Danii: Thanks a lot for beta-reading this, sweetie! You are so nice!

**Fred & Angelina**

Fred looked apprehensively at his reflection in the mirror. He was nervous, extremely nervous. He could tell by his extremely rapid heartbeat and by all the sweat that was slowly dripping down his forehead.

He was nervous, and that wasn't something that suited him. He was never nervous, _never_. Not even when he left school with his twin brother for the last time in front of a mass of adoring pupils. Excited, yes, but not nervous.

And now, because of his older brother's wedding, he was nervous. No, not because of his brother's wedding, because of his date for his brother's wedding.

He adjusted his tie, and thought that that was even more stupid, since his date for his brother's wedding was the same one he'd had for the Yule Ball years before.

Angelina Johnson.

What was the matter with him? He'd already asked her out once, and with no trace of nerves. Maybe that time he was just pretending to be self-confident because his younger brother was looking at him, and he had to impress him. But after all, it wasn't the asking part that scared him. No, in fact, that had already happened. It had been rather easy; his mother had sent her an invitation. Now, he just had to meet her in Diagon Alley and Apparate with her to the Burrow.

He was so deep in thought that he didn't notice George, looking at him from the door of his room.

"Nervous?" he asked, with a smirk.

"Should I be?" Fred replied cockily.

George shrugged. "I'm going, see you at the Burrow."

Fred eyed his new watch. "Are you already going? Can't you wait another bit? We'll go together."

George shook his head and smiled. "I don't want to disturb the couple, and I have to do something in the village before joining the party."

"Something that concerns a Muggle girl?" asked Fred, grinning.

George shrugged. "I can't waste this wonderful tuxedo, can I?" he asked.

"No, I don't think so," confirmed Fred.

George grinned again and Disapparated, leaving Fred to stare at the spot where he once stood. He was snapped out of his thoughts when he heard the ring of the doorbell downstairs. It was early. _She_ was early.

"Why am I so nervous?" he said out loud in frustration, stomping down the stairs. It wasn't that he couldn't Apparate downstairs; he simply wanted to gain some more time to think of the perfect way to greet Angelina, after months without seeing her.

_Good morning sweetheart. You look beautiful. _No, too sappy.

_Hey Ange! Whazzup?_ Too rough and ready.

_Hi Angelina. How are you?_ Yes, perfect.

But when he opened the door, nothing, not even a strangled attempt of forming a word, escaped his lips. Angelina stood there, beautiful in a long red dress, which contrasted beautifully with her ebony skin, and her beautiful hairdo. She seemed so much out of place with Diagon Alley.

"…come in?"

Fred raised his eyebrows and looked into her eyes. He was sure she had just said much more words than the ones he had caught, but he wasn't sure what they were. He had been too busy staring at her.

"Fred, I asked you if I could come in," she repeated, while the smile that she was wearing faded a bit. "Is there something wrong?"

Fred swallowed. "Y-you look gorgeous," he managed to say.

Angelina smiled and flushed a deep shade of crimson. "Thank you. You look good in that tuxedo."

He stood there in the doorway, his eyes fixed on her figure. At least, he did until she bit her bottom lip and cleared her throat. "Do you think that I could possibly come in?" she asked for the third time. "It's not very warm out here, and I'm feeling extremely stupid standing in Diagon Alley all dressed up like this."

"Uh?" he said rather stupidly. "Sure, sure, I'm sorry," he added, moving away from the door and letting her in.

"So, are you excited?" she asked, walking into the joke shop.

"You can't even imagine," he muttered.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing," he answered hastily. "You mean for the wedding? Yes, I'm pretty excited."

"I'm _very_ excited," she said, looking at the Pygmy Puffs that Fred and George bred, where they sat in a small glassy box. "It's the first wedding I've ever been to."

"Really?" asked Fred, without really listening to her, but looking at how wonderfully her dress fell on her curves.

"What about you?" she asked.

"What about me?" he asked back, with a dumb grin on his face.

Angelina looked at him, worried. "Fred, are you all right?"

"What?" he asked, laughing nervously. "Sure, I am."

"Well, is this the first wedding you've ever been to as well?" she asked again.

He nodded. "Yes, it's the first one."

"Nice," she said, smiling. "Shall we go?"

"What?" he asked stupidly. Why couldn't he pay attention to what she was telling him? He was too damn concentrated on her body.

"Shall we go, Fred?" asked Angelina again.

"Definitely," he said promptly. He offered his sweaty hand, and she took it with a smile that made Fred melt even more.

"Are you sure you are okay?" she asked again. "You're shaking."

"I'm fine," he answered.

"Yeah, well, Fred, I don't want to split in two because you're not ready, so maybe we should wait a bit," she suggested gently.

But Fred tightened his grip on her hand, and, with no further words, he Disapparated with her.

They Apparated a second later right outside the Burrow, where a mass of people seemed very busy preparing a great wedding. Angelina brought her hand to her head and smiled, staggering a little. "Well, you could have warned me," she said. "You caught me off guard."

Fred looked at her worryingly. "I'm sorry," he said sheepishly.

Angelina looked back at him, even more concerned. He was _sorry_? Since when was he sorry to catch someone off guard? He usually loved to see the surprised reaction of his victims. Now that she was looking at him, he was looking even more troubled.

"Fred! Angelina! Finally," they heard Mrs. Weasley call them. She approached them quickly. "Fred, dear, there're some chairs to bring outside. Will you help Charlie? And where's George?"

"He'll be here soon, mum," said Fred. He turned towards Angelina. "I'll be back in a moment."

Angelina nodded and looked at him disappearing into the Burrow.

"You are beautiful, Angelina, dear," said Mrs. Weasley.

"Thank you, Mrs. Wea-"

"Ginny! Don't you dare touch your hair, Fleur will get angry. _Again_," Mrs Weasley said, cutting Angelina off as she ran towards her daughter.

Angelina smiled. She imagined it must have been terrible for poor Mrs. Weasley with all the relatives she was sure the Weasleys had.

"Miss me?" said Fred, walking towards her with a cocky grin. Now, that looked more like the Fred Weasley she knew.

"You wish," answered Angelina, grinning back.

"Actually, yes," he said, flushing a bit.

Angelina arched her eyebrows, but decided to ignore that. "So, how long will it take for this wedding to start?" she asked, looking over the grounds.

"In a couple of hours," answered Fred. "In the meantime, do you want something to drink?"

Angelina smiled. "No, thanks. So, how is your shop going? I bet pretty well, from the ads in the Prophet," she said.

"Yeah, actually pretty well," he answered. "George and I are going to extend our activity as well."

"Really?"

"We're going to buy Zonko's," he said proudly.

Angelina looked at him, surprised. "Business going better than I thought, then," she said.

"What about you? Still playing on Puddlemere United, with Oliver?"

Angelina shrugged. "As long as I don't find anything better."

"You wouldn't like to work in the shop, would you?" he asked before he could even realise what he was asking.

"What?"

Fred turned bright red, which matched his hair perfectly. "I mean, you're a Quidditch player, you like to stay outside, under the sun, the wind, and-"

"Fred Weasley, are you asking me if I want to come and work at your shop?" she asked, cutting him off.

"It was just an idea," said Fred, embarrassed.

"I accept," she answered hastily.

"Really?" he asked in disbelief. He had been sure she would never accept. But what had given him that certainty, he didn't know. Anyway, he was glad to see that he was wrong.

Angelina was looking at him expectantly, as if she was waiting for him to say something different. Maybe that he was happy that she was going to work with him. "So?" she asked encouragingly.

"I'll send you a label with your name, and your robes," he said dazed.

Angelina nodded. "Thanks," she said, sighing.

Fred nodded back. "Oh, and I thought that maybe… if you wanted… it was just a thought, you see… but maybe, one evening, we could go out together, just for fun. I mean, I know that you have your life, and that maybe you're seeing other guys, but you see-"

Angelina threw herself towards him and kissed him on the lips, interrupting the flow of words, so rapid that she hadn't understood a thing, and she bet that he barely understood himself either.

When they drew apart, he looked at her. "What did you do that for?" He couldn't remember ever kissing her.

She shrugged. "You were talking total bollocks. I was torn between slapping you and kissing you."

He grinned. "I'm glad you decided on the kiss."

Angelina grinned back. "I'm glad, too."

Fred looked around and saw that lots of guests were already sitting down. "Shall we go and snog? _Sit_! I meant sit!" he corrected hastily.

"We can do both things," she said, smiling flirtatiously.

"Go and sit?" asked Fred, unsure.

Angelina took his hand and guided him towards the chairs. "Sit and snog."


	5. George & the Muggle Girl

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Potter characters, not even this Muggle-girl-at-the-paper-shop! She's canon!

A/N: So, well, re-reading this after a while I noticed that it wasn't all rubbish like I thought… But you'll have to tell me what do you think! Anyway, as I've already pointed out, this Muggle Girl is a canon character, and for being even more in canon I didn't name her, but I name her shop. Anyway, Jo talks about her in the sixth book, if I'm not wrong – too lazy to go and check it out…

To Danii: Thanks a lot for beta-reading this and for all your lovely comments.

**George & the Muggle Girl**

George Weasley Apparated right beside the bridge that crossed the Otter river. The city of Ottery St. Catchpole lay in front of him, peaceful and motionless in that cold, grey morning of July. He looked into the water of the river, and arranged his tie as he ran a hand through his hair.

"Perfect," he said to himself with a satisfied smile, before turning his attention to the village and beginning to walk down the path that led to the "downtown" of Ottery St. Catchpole.

He passed the church, the fish shop and a toy shop, where he shook his head sadly as he spotted the boxes of ordinary fireworks and the ridiculous water-balloons hat were displayed in the window.

George kept walking, since his real aim in the village wasn't the window of the toy shop, but the window of the paper shop.

He crossed the street and found himself in front of a squat building, with pink walls and a lot of windows. Right above the door, there was a sign, which read, 'Paper for Every Pen' in golden letters.

He walked towards the window and, leaning his forehead on the glass, he cupped his hands around his face to get a better visual of the interior of the shop. He crossed his fingers in the hope of finding the girl that had dominated his thoughts for the last few months. Not that it was really needed; he knew her shift schedule by heart.

And there she was, smiling patiently at an old man, who seemed too hard of hearing to understand what she was saying. He was leaning over the desk towards her, and she was bending down to him, repeating things twice.

George smiled in a bemused way. How could he be infatuated with a girl he didn't even know?

He had talked to her a few times, and had watched her, or rather, stalked her, down the streets of the village more than once, but he didn't quite figure out how he could be so taken with her. Maybe it was because she didn't know who he really was, and that made him feel strange. She just thought he was a nice boy – he hoped, anyway – who was very good with cards.

"Are you going to stay there for much longer?"

George stepped back from the glass hastily and looked at the girl that was standing in the door, looking at him. The old deaf man must have already left the shop, but he hadn't even noticed.

"I-I-"

"No, you see, it's just that I've already cleaned the window, and if you lean on it like that, you'll dirty it again," she explained practically, smiling.

George stared at the window where he had left the marks of his hands and forehead.

"Wait…I know you!" exclaimed the girl suddenly. "You're the one that does all those tricks with the cards." She looked at him from his hair to his toes. "Are you going to perform a show?"

George looked down at his outfit and frowned. He had hoped that his tuxedo would have had another effect on her, but he had to admit that all he was missing was a top hat, and then he really would have looked like a magician.

"No," he said, finding his voice. "I have a wedding to attend."

The girl bit his bottom lip. "And you're the groom?" she asked, a little timidly.

"What?" asked George, taken aback. He'd told his brothers that the tuxedos were a little much for Bill's wedding. Or maybe it was Fred that told him that, he couldn't remember. "No, it's my brother's wedding."

He wasn't sure, but he thought he saw the girl sigh in relief.

"Is he marrying in the village church?" she asked, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall right outside the door.

"No, in the garden of our house."

She nodded. "I've never been to a wedding. When my friend Lydia married, I was in the--" She stopped and looked at him. "Why are you here in front of a paper shop if you have a wedding to attend?" she asked, as if she had just realised he was totally out of place with that tuxedo.

George swallowed, his brain racing to find a believable excuse and form a coherent sentence in less than a couple of seconds. "I needed some cards," he said, trying to sound convincing.

"Cards?" asked the girl, in confusion.

"Yes, playing cards. I can't find mine," he said, wondering where that little lie had come from.

"Why do you need cards?" she asked again.

George narrowed his eyes. He wasn't used to Muggle shops, but didn't the assistants usually just give him whatever he asked for? "Remember? I'm a magician. I want to surprise the wedding guests."

The girl nodded and entered the shop, followed by George.

"What kind of cards do you need?" she asked, placing a big box full of new decks of cards that were still sealed on the counter.

"How many kinds of cards are there?" he asked, unsure.

She raised an eyebrow. "I thought you were an expert."

"I am," he answered, a little too hastily. "Give me those." He pointed to a deck of cards with little stars on the back.

She took them out. "That makes five pounds," she said, handing him the deck of cards.

"P-pounds?" He reached in his pocket for the small amount of Knuts that he had brought with him when he'd left the joke shop, and swallowed. "Do you think I can pay with foreign money?"

"Are you joking? You don't have any pounds on you?" she asked, surprised.

George shook his head and shrugged. He placed the Knuts on the table and waited to be sent out of the shop with his money thrown after him. "Are these enough?"

"I don't even know what these are," she said, sighing. "Let's make a deal," she continued, pushing the Knuts towards George, who put them back in his pocket. "If you surprise me with your cards, I'll give them to you for free."

George smiled. "Okay," he said, unwrapping the cards.

He placed the deck of cards on the bench and pressed a hand on them. "Pick up one," he said, smiling.

The girl looked at him, unimpressed. She was sure it would be the same old story of 'I'll guess which card you picked up', except for the fact that he'd barely touched them.

She picked up a card. "Do you want me to say what is it?" she asked, looking at her Queen of Hearts.

"It's not important," said George. "Pick up another one."

She picked up another card, and it was another Queen of Hearts. She looked for a moment at the two cards. She didn't remember giving him a double deck of cards…

George grinned. "Pick up another one," he said.

She picked up another card and started. It was another Queen of Hearts. Without waiting for his invitation, she picked up another one, and then another, and another, and another.

"Let me guess your card," said George, grinning. "Queen of Hearts."

The girl looked at him, a bit frightened, then her fear turned to wonder. "You are really good," she said slowly. "Really, really good."

"And you haven't seen anything yet," said George. "Thank you," he added, taking the cards from her hands. He shuffled the cards and, opening them like a fan, he held the deck out to her. "Choose one," he said, smiling widely.

She gripped one card and pulled at it, but it didn't move from George's hands. "I think you should let go," she said, still pulling.

"Oh, sorry," he said, and let go of all the cards, which finished stuck together in her hands.

The girl tried to take away the card that she had chosen, but they were all stuck together.

"How did you do this?" she asked, waving the deck of cards in front of him. "You are fantastic. This is pure magic."

"It is," confirmed George, with a mischievous smile.

"Will you teach me?" she asked, still studying the cards.

George smiled. "It's something you have in your genes. You have to be born with it; it's not something you can learn."

"You mean, you didn't take any courses for magicians?" she asked, even more surprised.

"Courses? Well, I attended a school for wizards, but I didn't finish," he said thoughtfully. "But my teachers were quite good," he added, nodding towards the cards.

"And you are very talented," she said. "You know, sometimes I help in the nursery school in the village, and there are lots of children that would love to see your tricks."

"I don't know," said George, unsure. He didn't much enjoy the thought of spending his precious time in a nursery school with little Muggle children, instead of inventing new tricks for the joke shop, but, after all, children were his primary resources.

"We could go out and have a drink or something after," she muttered, suddenly turning a deep shade of crimson.

"Didn't I tell you that I love children?" he said promptly. "Of course I'll come, just let me know when."

The girl smiled. "Shall we go next Monday at four p.m.?"

"Can't wait," said George, grinning. "Blimey! I really have to go," he added, checking the clock hung above the door.

"Wait, don't forget your cards," the girl said.

"Keep them," he answered. Then he smiled brightly. "I'll invent something else."


	6. Ron & Hermione

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K.R.

A/N: Okay, this one is one of my favourite one-shot. I really hope you'll like it too, Ron and Hermione are one of my OTP (together with Draco/Hermione, Harry/Hermione, Ron/Ginny, Ron/Pansy, Draco/Pansy, Viktor/Hermione, and many, many others – I know, they contradict each others…). Anyway, I hope I portrayed them nicely, they are both pretty shy and unsure, so I hope I did everything right. Enjoy this story!

To Danii: Thanks for saying that this story was nice. Love you, baby.

**Ron & Hermione**

Harry walked towards his best friend with a bottle of Butterbeer in his hands. Ron was leaning against the trunk of a huge oak, under which a long table had been prepared with a large variety of dishes, of both English and French nationality.

Harry grinned slightly as he approached Ron. "Nice wedding, isn't it?" he asked, sipping from the bottle. He glanced at the couples that were dancing in the middle of the garden on a huge platform. Mr and Mrs Weasley seemed to enjoy that very much.

Ron nodded absently, staring in front of him. Harry followed his gaze and saw that he was looking intently at a group of girls who were chatting together around the gorgeous bride.

"Ron, she's your sister-in-law now. You can't look at her like that, Bill will kill you," said Harry, laughing.

Ron turned towards him as if he had just woken up from a dream. "What?" he asked, looking a bit disoriented.

"I know Fleur's beautiful, but you should wipe some drool away from your mouth, if you want to look more like a normal boy, instead of a hormonal teenager," said Harry, grinning.

"Fleur?" asked Ron. "I wasn't looking at Fleur."

"No?" asked Harry, surprised. He turned to look again in the girls' direction. He was sure that Ron wasn't staring at his own sister, and not at Angelina, and that left only- "Hermione!" exclaimed Harry.

Ron hushed him, placing a hand on Harry's mouth. "What are you yelling for?" he whispered frantically.

Harry shrugged and said something that Ron didn't catch, thanks to his hand on Harry's mouth.

"What?"

Harry gestured towards the hand and Ron took it away. "And what are you hushing me for? It's just Hermione," said Harry, grinning. "Or maybe it's not _just Hermione_ for you anymore?"

"What are you talking about, of course it's just Hermione," said Ron curtly. "I simply don't want to attract her attention."

"Why not?" asked Harry, amused.

"Because I was staring at her without knowing why," said Ron quickly, flushing crimson.

"Without knowing why?" Harry sighed. "Honestly, Ron. Hermione was right. You are the most insensitive wart we have ever had the misfortune to meet."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Hermione already said that. And can I ask you why you're repeating it now?"

"Are you going to ask Hermione to dance?" asked Harry calmly.

Ron almost choked. "No! Why would I do something like that?" he asked in utter confusion.

"Then you really are," replied Harry quietly.

"What?"

"An insensitive wart."

"Just because I won't ask Hermione to dance?"

"No, not just because of that."

Ron looked intently at Harry, and couldn't help feeling terribly worried when Harry's lips started to curl into a grin. "What? What's going on? Why are you smiling?" he asked nervously.

"Can't I smile?" asked Harry, grinning wider than ever.

"Well, yeah," answered Ron in frustration. " But why?"

"Because I have a great idea. I'll ask Hermione to dance," said Harry.

Ron looked at him with his eyes wide and his mouth open. "Y-you what?" he asked.

"I'll ask her to dance," he repeated calmly.

Ron burst into laughter. "You were terrible at the Yule Ball, you almost broke Parvati's foot."

Harry shot him a glare. "Thank you, Ron," he hissed. "By the way, I don't think Hermione will mind too much, since the boy of her dreams isn't going to ask her to dance, and she's definitely willing to dance."

"T-the boy of her dreams? D-do you mean someone here is the boy of Hermione's dreams?" asked Ron anxiously.

Harry looked at him as if he was out of his mind. He wasn't sure that Ron was serious. Nobody could be that thick, not even Ron.

"What?" asked Ron after a few minutes.

"Yeah, well, he's here."

"And who is he?" asked Ron, who was turning a bit green.

"Let me help you. He has red hair, blue eyes and a lot of freckles," said Harry.

Ron's eyes widened in horror. "Is it one of my brothers?"

Harry had to tighten his grip on the bottle of Butterbeer to avoid smashing Ron over the head with it. "No, Ron," he hissed.

"But you just said that he's-"

"I've got an idea," Harry cut him off. "I'll go and ask Hermione to dance with the boy she's madly in love with. And when you see her dance with him, you'll understand who he is."

Ron looked at him, unconvinced. "How much is she in love with him?"

"Madly."

"I don't know, Harry. Maybe you shouldn't meddle in her love life. I mean, if the boy she has feelings for doesn't feel the same way towards her, she won't feel very nice," said Ron, trying to understand who Hermione could possibly be in love with.

"Ron, you don't have to worry. I know for a fact that the boy is madly in love with her as well," said Harry, with an evil grin.

Ron swallowed. "Did he tell you?"

"Not exactly, but the messages they send each other are really clear," said Harry calmly.

"Really? I didn't notice anything," said Ron. All of a sudden, he didn't feel very well.

"I know."

Ron looked at his best friend. "Maybe he doesn't want to dance."

"But she wants to dance. Would you refuse if a girl like Hermione asked you to dance?" asked Harry.

"She would never ask me to dance," muttered Ron.

"But if she asked, you'd dance, wouldn't you?" asked Harry, trying to sound casual.

"I guess so, but that will never happen," said Ron. "And then maybe she doesn't want to dance right now. Look at her hair. She did it so nicely that she would be really upset if her hairdo fell down in the middle of the wedding because of a stupid dance with someone."

"Ron, why are you so upset about Hermione dancing with someone? You just said that it's just Hermione, didn't you?" Harry asked calmly.

"Of course," said Ron curtly, his face matching his hair. "Go on and ask her to dance with the man of her dreams. I'm really curious to see who she'll ask."

Harry put down the bottle of Butterbeer, and walked towards the crowd of girls that stood on the other side of the garden.

Ron watched as Harry approached the girls and greeted everyone. Then he said something that Ron didn't quite catch, and a second later he was taking Hermione's hand, and guiding her away from the group. He came even closer to her and whispered something in her ear and she smiled. Ron felt a wave of jealousy, but he didn't know where it had come from.

Then Hermione's eyes moved in Ron's direction and met his. Ron lowered his almost immediately, suddenly extremely interested in his hands. He raised his eyes again only when he heard footsteps approaching, thinking it was Harry. He was startled when he found himself face to face with Hermione.

"Hey," he said awkwardly. "Aren't you going to dance?"

Hermione smiled. "Yes," she said brightly, offering him her hand.

Ron looked at her suspiciously. "What?" he asked without understanding.

Hermione looked back at him confused. "A-aren't you going to dance with me?" she stammered. "Harry said you wanted to dance with me."

Ron opened his mouth to answer, but no sound escaped him. He looked over her shoulder for Harry, but there was no sign of him anywhere. He turned to look at Hermione, who was turning slightly pink, and swallowed. "I-I didn't say that."

"Oh," she muttered. "Okay, he must have been joking," she added, disappointed. "I think I'll go into your house and look for a bag to put over my head, so nobody will see how red I turn next time I talk to you." She started to walk away, letting the dress that she had been carefully lifting with her hands, drag along the ground.

Ron didn't quite understand. The only thing he knew was that she seemed on the verge of tears, and that he was an insensitive wart.

"Hermione, would you like to dance?" he asked, before he could stop himself.

Hermione looked at him and smiled brightly. "Of course I would, Ron," she answered.

Ron swallowed hard and took her hand rather rudely, practically dragging her to the dance floor. "Erm," he muttered, when he found himself in the midst of the dancing couples with Hermione in front of him. "I'm not very good at this."

Hermione smiled. She took his right arm and brought it around her waist, and she placed her left hand on his shoulder. Then she offered her right hand to him and he took it awkwardly. "Just follow my lead," she whispered in a way that made Ron blush without an apparent reason.

Hermione took a step towards him. "Take a step back," she said patiently, and Ron obeyed. "Now a step forward," she said. Ron took a step forward and "Ouch!" He'd trod on Hermione's foot.

"I'm sorry," he said, letting go of her hand. "I didn't see your foot."

Hermione bit her bottom lip, but when she spoke she was calm. "I'm fine. Let's go on," she said, offering her hand to him again.

Ron took it again and followed her instructions "A step back, a step forward, a step back, a step forward…" until he started to like what he was doing, especially because every time he took a step forward, he seemed to get closer to Hermione. She moved her hand a little in and their fingers enlaced almost imperceptibly, but enough to send a little electric shock down from their hands to their bodies.

Then the music stopped, to Hermione and Ron's great dismay, and everybody stopped around them. Ron let go of her hand and smiled. "I enjoyed dancing with you," he said, surprising himself as much as her. "I think I'll-"

But the dances were far from finished: new music started to play and this time it was a slow romantic song, and Ron's sentence stopped as the notes covered his words.

"Oh, Ron, I love this song, let's dance again," Hermione pleaded.

Ron looked around at the couples that were already starting to dance. There were Fred and Angelina so close to each other, it looked as if they were stuck together with glue, and Bill and Fleur. Ron couldn't understand where one ended and the other started. But Ron looked really horrified only when he saw his parents looking into each other's eyes like they were a couple in their late teens.

"Hermione, it's a slow song," Ron pointed out hoarsely.

"It doesn't change much from the other one," she said practically. "We just have to stay _closer_." And Ron couldn't help noticing she was blushing.

"H-how much closer?" he asked awkwardly.

Hermione didn't answer. She took a step towards him and placed her hands around his neck. She would have put her head on his shoulder, but he was too tall for her.

Ron looked at her dumbly, without knowing what to do. Then something hit him. He looked around and saw that Fred and Bill – he didn't dare look at his father – had both their hands on the girls' waists, so he decided to imitate them. He looked into Hermione's eyes, silently asking the permission for what he was about to do. When Hermione felt his fingers shyly brushing her hips, she smiled brightly, causing Ron to feel a bit more confident.

Hermione closed her eyes and leaned her head on his chest.

Ron turned extremely red, and when his father passed by him, giving him the thumbs up, his hair colour seemed almost to pale when compared to his skin.

Ron looked down at Hermione and saw that she had her eyes shut and a smile on her face.

"Hey, Hermione," he whispered.

She raised her eyes and looked at him with a smile that he had never seen on her face. Not for him, at least. "What?" she asked softly.

"You know, when I see Harry, I have to give him a slow and painful death," he said, grinning.

"Why?" asked Hermione.

"Because he tricked me."

Hermione smiled a little more. "What did he do?"

"He told me he was going to ask you if you would ask to dance with the boy of your dreams," he said, laughing nervously.

Hermione looked at Ron surprised, then a smile appeared on her lips. She leaned her head back on his chest. "Ron, he did."


	7. Harry & Ginny

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is property of J.K.R. and I'm not J.K.R., but if I were I wouldn't have let Dumbledore die… That caused my other ff to become an AU. Damn it!

A/N: Okay, you know what's annoying me? The fact that I think that this chapter, with Ginny and Harry, came out more nicely than the other one, with Ron and Hermione! I seriously can't stand Harry and Ginny together, but I love this chapter/one-shot. Maybe it's just because it's terribly sad, and I love writing sad things… By the way, this is the last chapter and I wanted to thank all the people that read this story, reviewed those one-shots and put the fiction in their Alert/Fav lists. Leave a review if you feel to even if it's year 2854, I'll try to answer you. Enjoy it!

To Danii: Thanks so much sweetheart, and sorry if this chapter made you cry! You've been a wonderful beta-reader.

**Harry & Ginny**

Ginny walked down the path that led to the pond behind the Burrow, and her suspicious were confirmed. Harry was there, her back to her, probably staring in front of him, with his arms wrapped around his knees.

She cleared her throat loudly and approached him. "I think it's going to rain," she said slowly.

Harry raised his eyes to Ginny, surprised to find her there. "Why?" he asked softly.

"Oh my gosh, Harry! Ron and Hermione are dancing together. A slow dance," she exclaimed.

Harry grinned slightly. "Really?"

Ginny nodded, and collapsed onto the grass next to him. Harry glanced at her, but looked away immediately when she turned towards him. "Are you enjoying the wedding?" she asked.

Harry nodded. "Very much. I've never been to a wedding in the wizarding world." He looked away thoughtfully. "I've never been to a wedding at all." He looked at her. "Have you?"

"Once," she said, tearing up some grass. "It was one of my mum's cousins, but I can't remember very well. I was only five."

Harry nodded. "Percy didn't show up today, right?" he asked, without knowing why he did so.

"No, and mum was sure he would come. She's devastated. I know dad also asked Penelope to try to convince him to come, but she couldn't," said Ginny, sighing. "Percy's a git."

Harry nodded in agreement, then a comfortable silence fell between them, and for a moment, they both wouldn't have wanted to be anywhere else.

"Are you still determined to leave after the wedding?" Ginny's voice broke the peace that had fallen between them.

Harry picked up a pebble and threw it in the pond. "Yes," he answered, looking at the little ripples that spread over the surface.

"With Ron and Hermione?"

"Yes."

"And without me."

Her last sentence wasn't a question, but Harry felt the urge to answer her, to make it clear that she couldn't come.

"Yes," he murmured.

Ginny took a deep breath and leaned back on her elbows, staring at the light green ribbons on her chest.

"I like your dress," said Harry, smiling.

"Very funny," she muttered darkly.

"No, it's true, I love it," he said, casting her a glance. "The green is nice with your hair."

"Oh, 'Arry, you are the only one that understands all the efforts that poor Fleur does," she said, imitating Fleur's voice.

Harry laughed.

"I think she chose this colour because I hate it," sighed Ginny.

"Well, I think she chose it because both you and Gabrielle look nice in it," answered Harry, as his laughter faded away.

"Gabrielle looks nice in everything she wears. Just like her sister," muttered Ginny. "While I look like a big zucchini that's been fertilised too much."

"I like zucchinis," said Harry, grinning.

"And I like carrots, but I don't go out with them."

"Oh, so I'm going out with a zucchini?" asked Harry, amused.

"Oh, so you are going out with me?" asked Ginny sarcastically.

Harry looked at her, taken aback. He bit his bottom lip without answering. How could he be so stupid?

"You know that I'm better than Ron with hexes and counter curses, right?" asked Ginny, playing distractedly with one of her ribbons.

"You are better than him at lots of things," conceded Harry.

"Kissing?"

"Oh, yes, much better. Ron doesn't use his tongue enough," said Harry calmly.

Ginny sat up at once, and looked at him, disturbed. "You didn't kiss him, did you?"

Harry grinned. "You asked, and I-"

"Just tell me that you didn't kiss him," pleaded Ginny.

Harry shook his head, still grinning. "No." Ginny sighed in relief. "Not yet," he added with a mischievous smile.

She slapped his arm playfully. "Don't joke about that, you're giving me bad images," she said.

Harry smiled, and then he slowly lay down on his back, with his hands under his head. He felt, rather than saw, Ginny lying down next to him, and sensed her hand on his chest, playing slowly with his tie.

"I like your outfit," she murmured. "You are elegant."

"Well, that was my aim, being elegant," he confirmed. "Fleur suggested I should wear something green to match your dress, but I would rather die than wear something green."

"You're not funny," said Ginny, trying not to laugh.

Harry didn't reply. He just lay there, smiling, and as he felt Ginny's body cuddling up next to his own, he felt like he could have stayed there forever. But the sun was already setting and the air that blew was extremely cold, with a vague smell of rain.

"I think it's really going to rain," said Ginny.

Harry nodded.

"Shall we go back to the Burrow?"

"I don't really mind staying here in the rain, but you don't want to ruin your dress, do you?" he asked teasingly.

Ginny came closer to him and buried her head in his neck cavity. "Okay, I'll stay here with you, in the rain, until my dress falls to pieces." She grinned mischievously. "Fleur will have a heart attack."

"You are evil," said Harry, smiling.

"Ron's told me that since I was two and broke all his toys," she answered. "But I didn't do that on purpose."

"Yeah, I bet," said Harry sarcastically.

Ginny bit his neck and Harry jumped. "I'm a good sister," she said against his skin. "And a good friend."

"And a good girlfriend," added Harry in a whisper. "The best I've ever had."

She started to giggle. "Aren't I the only one, too?"

Harry thought of Cho. "Yeah, the only one. The only one who meant anything to me," he answered.

A big drop of rain fell on Harry's forehead, and another one on Ginny's exposed neck. Then the storm began in earnest. They heard the screams of the people that were trying to bring everything inside the Burrow, and of the girls that were running frantically towards shelter.

Ginny tightened her arm around Harry, and he turned to cover as much of her as he could with his body.

"They'll be looking for us sooner or later," murmured Ginny.

"Let them find us," Harry murmured back.

"We'll catch a cold."

"Your mother's soup can cure anything," said Harry reassuringly.

Harry heard her sigh. He opened his eyes and looked down at her. Her face and hair were wet, and the make-up on her face was already ruined. He smiled at her frailty. No, she wasn't delicate, but at that very moment, she seemed like a porcelain doll.

Suddenly, she opened her eyes and met his. She raised her head a bit, and their lips crashed together. Harry looked at her, and he felt surprise, sadness and pleasure so quickly that, for a moment, he wasn't sure what he was feeling.

Ginny's hand passed behind his neck and pulled him closer to her. Their lips explored with hunger, as if they needed each other's contact to live. Harry's hand sneaked up her back, and he closed the distance until there was no space between them.

When they finally parted, they lay there, holding tight to each other. Harry's face under Ginny's, his chin on her shoulder, his nose buried in her hair, which was falling down from her hairdo. Ginny had her lips on his neck and was brushing it slightly.

Suddenly, Harry heard a sob. He tried to withdraw to look at her, but she tightened her grip on him.

"I just want you to know that I care so much about you," she whispered, her voice broken with sobs.

Harry placed a hand on her head and stroked her hair. "I know," he whispered back in her ear. "And I care for you, too."

"Even if you won't let me come with you, I'll always be with you," she continued.

"I know."

"I'll miss you so much," she said, sobbing, and her tears mixed with the raindrops hitting her face.

"I'll be missing you too, even if there'll be Ron and Hermione. I'll have to do my best not to think of you," he murmured.

"No," she said frantically. "No, think of me. It would drive me crazy if you came back and you'd forgotten me."

"That will never happen," he promised her.

Ginny nodded and pressed her body against his, burying her face even more deeply in his neck. "I love you," she murmured, kissing his skin.

Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I love you, too."

- The End -


End file.
